#albert wesker

[weskie]

What You Deserve (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | 2700 words, salacious use of tentacles, post re5 wesker, one of those things that was meant to be sweet but became nasty, amab!reader version here | Fic Directory

You've taken such good care of him. Isn't it time he rewards you? Be careful though. Some things are still a little… new.

You were something else.  Frankly you always have been, but now more than ever.

Despite waves of self loathing and rampant depression of which he would never confess, Wesker’s recovery has been as smooth as you could make it.  Pain medication kept most of the lingering aches away and Uroboros had ensured he lived to see another day.  Other than a weakened body riddled with scar tissue from his little dunk in the fires of the Earth, he couldn’t complain terribly much.

Even after his fusion with Uroboros, Wesker was still a mere man unable to escape the more… basic urges.  He’s always considered arousal to be like an itch.  Sure he could scratch it, but he could also ignore it and let it go away.  He often chose the latter, but, with little else to occupy him besides literature or your company, such a choice became significantly more difficult.

You notice his state quickly, though you say nothing of the tented blanket that only seems to continue rising the more he tries to ignore it.  You simply take his hand and squeeze, occupied with your laptop while Wesker rereads the same line of his book over and over again in a poor attempt to settle down.  When he tips his head back against the mountain of pillows he’s propped against, you give him a knowing look.

“Want some help?”  You ask, thumb brushing against his knuckles.

Does he?  He did go waist deep in lava. Thus far, it had seemed Uroboros took care to heal his nerves in all other places, and he’s never noticed a lack of sensation in the times where he’s had to touch himself to bathe, but what if he can’t feel enough to… perform well for you?  Was it even the full act of sex that you were offering or simply assistance in relieving him?

Perhaps the uncertainty was written across his face because you turn to face him, hand rising to stroke his cheek and trail into his unstyled hair.  Your touch spurs another aching pulse between his legs.  “Only if you want to,” you say sweetly. 

He pretends to consider your offer, but his answer was yes the very moment you spoke.  The second your thumb brushes his lip, he’s tugging you onto his lap.  He swallows your protests with ease, groaning weakly into the kiss.  Wesker knows you’re afraid to put your weight down on him, still so worried about agitating his aches and pains.  He has half a mind to grip your hips and help you grind against him, but you’re taking charge before he can.

“Let me,” you murmur, lips trailing down his neck.  You halt at the collar of his sleep shirt, moving away only to help him pull it over his head.  Your hands land on his sides, smoothing up and down slowly, stroking reverently at the juxtaposition of softness and patches of scarring.  Each motion brings you closer and closer to his chest until you’re kneading his pectorals, thumbs brushing against rosy buds in such a way that leaves him panting.

It really has been a while… the throb of his cock confirms it.  He has half a mind to just tear at your clothes and rush you to take him, but you seem to sense his impatience just as easily as you’d noticed his need.  “M’gonna take care of you,” you whisper sweetly, palms coaxing him to rest fully against the pillows. “You deserve it.” You slip so easily down his body, blanket falling away to reveal black boxer briefs that have clearly garnered a little wet spot from such light teasing.  “Just relax.  Shut your eyes, sweetheart.”

He does as you say, releasing a shuddering breath in anticipation for what’s to come.  It turns to a gasp the second your tongue laves the dip of his hips.  Your hands steady him with gentle pressure, shirking their duty when you decide to skim your nails over ticklish flesh and wring a breathy giggle from him.

He can feel your smile as you kiss further down, sensation dulling when your peppered love finds its way to the band of his underwear, renewing once more when you peck sweetly at his inner thighs.  Wesker’s hips seek you of their own accord and he’s lucky enough to feel at least one press of your lips to his covered length before you make your way back up.  He practically bucks into your grasp when you take hold of him. 

“Seems like everything's in working order,” you coo playfully in his ear.  

Wesker finds his lower lip to gnaw on while you stroke him slowly.  His hands paw at your clothes, eagerly trying to expose you.  His eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide around distorted hues of red and blue still vying for dominance over one another.  He’s just about got your shirt off when that hand of yours dives beneath his waistband, milking the most humiliating whine from him imaginable.

What's wrong with him? Why is he so… desperate? 

His hands leave you to shimmy out of his underwear, hissing at the cool air and the mere sight of your hand around his weeping cock.  He turns back to you, keening into a kiss as he tries once more to tug at your clothes.  He hoists your leg over his hip, palm smoothing to take a greedy handful of your rear, playing with your flesh as you’d done with him.  Everything about you is bliss itself, from your slow, torturous strokes to his cock to the slide of your tongue against his.  You should be bare against him, skin to skin, letting him feel every inch of you. He needs it. He needs you. 

Suddenly, a humming laugh escapes you, reverberating against his tongue before you break away.  “Again, huh?”  You breathe.  

Again… yes. 

Once more, tendrils have wound their way around you to do his bidding, but this time for more… salacious reasons.  Each one wriggles under your clothes in some way or another.  You aid them in their quest to strip you, tugging your shirt and pants away with ease while the masses slither just as eagerly as his hands explore.

It’s so cute how you squirm for him.  It’s as if the tables have been turned oh so perfectly, leaving you just as red in the face as you’d made him.  He may not have his full strength yet, but this?  This more than makes up for it.  One tentacle coils at your waist, holding you perfectly in place as the others find themselves far more… occupied.  Your giggles turn to breathy moans, each one sung perfectly for him.  You’re like an instrument only he can play, your pleasure a melody only he can create.

“W-Wo– Ah!”  You gasp, head lolling to the side the very second one of those slimy appendages creeps between your legs.  Your first instinct is to clench your thighs together, though you don’t get very far with having been straddling him.  The tip of it swipes your clit, making you buck and whine.  “Al!”

Tantalizing was… not a strong enough word for the sight before him.  These appendages have always carried a degree of wetness, some leaky black ooze that only ever left a small mess, but now?  Oh, now they leave clear glistening trails along your flesh that make his cock utterly ache.  It’s as if he’s painting you with his own arousal, picture perfect and drenched in his love just like you should be.  The tentacles trail over where he wants to see you marked most: your chest, your neck… all the way down to your pretty little pussy.

“Al, I–” You try, but you’re whimpering as more slithering lengths join in to curl around your thighs.  He didn’t even have to lift a finger…  There’s so many things he could do with you.  He could lift you, surely, to his face.  Slide his tongue that’s been so starved for you between your sopping folds.  Or he could lower you onto his cock right now.  Forget effort; you wouldn’t have to do a thing.  He could simply maneuver you accordingly, bounce you up and down with their grip on your body until you were both fucked senseless.  Or…

Wesker’s chest rises and falls with each open mouthed breath, watching with wide eyes as three smaller tendrils approach your cunt.  You squirm, but you show no sign for him to stop even as they alternate swiping along your slit.

“I-I thought– mm!”  You try, words as shaky as your trembling body. “T-Thought I was gonna t-take care of you instead…”  

“You are…” he breathes, utterly hypnotized as more tentacles join the fray and suddenly, without warning, you’re spread completely for him, slithering lengths taking your legs while smaller ones part your drenched pussy lips.  You’ve been put on exhibit, and oh… how you writhe and keen under his sopping touches.  All Wesker can do is simply lie there, cock torturously hard at the sight of you like this.  He dares not touch himself; he dares not even imagine it lest one of those lengths creep to coil around it to satisfy the urge.

“A-Albert– ngh!”  Every cry you make fuels whatever hidden desires lurk below the surface of his mind.  Nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the sight of an extra thick tentacle slinking along your leg, coiling up and up until it presses at your entrance.  “O-Oh my god!”  You mewl, head falling back.  “I don’t– I don’t think I can– that’s too big… Al, I don’t think I can– Ah!”

Exhilaration runs down his spine as though every nerve in his body fired at once.  Watching it press into you, seeing every ounce of slick drip from its effort to wriggle inside as you keen and mewl and cry out his name over and over again as if to pray to him…  Wesker licks his lips, panting heavily, fighting to keep control despite that knot in his gut threatening to give at any moment.  His fists bite into the sheets, threads popping as they give way to his strength.  

“O-Oh g-god,” you sob, barely audible over wet squelches.  “P-Please… Al, p-please!”

“I…” he tries, but he has no words.  Nothing in the world could possibly explain this– why it was happening, why he was allowing it, why… why he fucking loves it.  

But he does know why, deep down.  Past that layer of perfect prudence and discipline lies the truth.  You deserve this.  You deserve every ounce of pleasure he can stuff into you.  For all that you’ve done for him… you deserve everything. 

You cry out over and over again as the thickness fucks in and out of you, slick drizzling from your cunt down your ass and onto the bed.  It soaks his hips and cock, oozing off to coat the sheets and surely seep down into what was now a ruined mattress.  But he doesn’t care.  Not one bit.

The tentacles wriggle all over you, slithering and rubbing against tender flesh, restraining the intense trembling of your legs as you dangle helplessly.  He can practically hear it hitting the depths of your cunt, each noisy, wet thrust coupled with your sweet songs a promise of your never ending pleasure.  And oh… you deserve it.  You deserve all that he can possibly give you.  You were there for everything.  The good, the bad, the horrifying…  Every part of him is yours, which means you get this, too.  

The first time you cry out his name is perfection in and of itself.   You come undone so beautifully.  He has to grasp his cock and squeeze the base damn near to the point of harming himself just to keep from blowing his load right then and there.  Watching you practically seize in his slithery grasp, hearing you gag and gurgle on one that had slipped between your lips, knowing you’re so fucked out of your mind that you could do little else than suckle its length as if it were his cock… 

Even then, it’s like he can feel it.  The sensation is dull, but it is there.  Your lazy tongue, the clench of your throat, the warmth of your breath, the throbbing quiver of your cunt– it’s all fucking there, and it’s all for him.  You belong to him.  You’ve shown him so many times, over and over again that he has you, heart, mind, body, and soul.

“That’s it, dearheart…” he coos, shaky voice barely more than a murmur.  “You’re– you’re doing so perfect… You’re taking me so well.”

He feels you clench up again, walls trembling as you approach your next release.  You always did like when he’d purr such things in your ear.  It warms his heart in the strangest way to see it work just the same now.  

“O-One more for me.”  Wesker rasps brokenly, heavy breaths leaving him as he watches with an unyielding gaze.  He will not miss a second of this.  “It feels good, doesn’t it…? I can feel it too.”  He wants nothing more than to hear you come undone for him once more.  As if understanding his thoughts, the appendage in your mouth slips free, prompting you to gasp and choke desperately for air.  

You moan nonstop as if it were the only sound left that you could make.  It’s like you’ve been robbed entirely of higher thought and fell into a mindless state, one that could only comprehend the thickness ramming in and out of your cunt.  Your sweet noises pitch up more and more with every passing second, signaling your next climax is near.

Wesker wills the tentacles to tilt you upright, the big one still fucking into you despite the position shift, and you whine weakly at the change.  “Come for me, my sweet.” He commands, rising from his position to cup your cheeks between his hands.  As if fully understanding his order, you do exactly that, falling apart with a breathless scream cut off by the thick length slipping from your cunt while the others force you down onto his cock.  “Oh, god!”  He roars, face falling into the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as his release hits him like a lightning bolt, coating your ooze slicked walls with his seed in heavy spurts.  

Albert’s eyes are clenched shut, but he swears his vision has gone white.  There’s nothing.  Nothing at all is left in this world except for your limp form in his hold and the heat of your flesh between his teeth.  Even when the oxygen in his lungs has gone stale, he still forgets to breathe.  It’s your trembling fingers curling at his nape that remind him he’s even still alive.

The two of you remain like that for some time, long enough that his legs go stiff and each slithering length once wrapped around your body retreats back into him.  You’re both covered in ooze, but he can’t find it in himself to care.  Not yet, at least.

You’re limp in his grasp, but he can tell you’re awake from the occasional scritch to the base of his neck or breath fanning against his skin.

“I… apologize.” He eventually murmurs.  It’s all he can think to say.  Certainly, you both would be having quite the conversation about this eventually.  But, for now, this much is due.  “For… having lost control.”  It isn’t even an exaggeration.  At some point, all thought went out the door.  There was only the two of you and every salacious desire he couldn’t suppress. 

He needs to become better at that.  

“Mm,” you hum weakly, fingers threading through his hair the way they always do in the afterglow.  “You’re full of surprises…”  There’s a hint of amusement in your voice.  That good natured softness with which you’ve always treated him.  “We gotta… mm, when my legs work again… it’s shower time.”

He couldn’t agree more.  For now though, he means to simply hold you, still buried within your heat.  You feel like home.  What luck to have found you…

And what bliss to know you’ll stay.

[tiredsurvivoronmain]

Tail wags🐻🐱

[johnny217]

art-trade for bro @oroontheheels-art with this babygirl 🔥

[scratchingcatfics658]

a random wesker headcanon that may or may not be canon lol

He can dilate his eyes at will but it usually happens involuntarily when he's in anticipation/excitement/about to pounce, just like a cat.

exactly this ^

[clayderogatory]

hello everyone im a curious little fella today, and today i want to see you all yap about your resident evil ocs. give me the LORE!!! give me the DESCRIPTIONS!!!! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!!! i love hearing abt peoples ocs and i am an oc x canon enthusiast. go nuts, i will listen to every detail :3

[destinationtrekk]

young wesker who gets drunk and giggly with reader. at first he had been so... cold, so expressionless and absolutely cluelessly bone-dry on how to go about doing anything but a daylight two-step move-his-arms-a-little to the dance music blaring from somewhere, but that's okay, reader can show him.

and he enjoys it... and he's laughing, and his face is flushed, and the scent of vodka is deep on his tongue, and he has severely miscalculated his drink, but that's okay, because reader keeps him safe and happy and distracted the entire time.

at the end, as he begins to sober up, they can't seem to get out of him where he's supposed to go to now (perhaps he is trying to revel in it, this one normalcy, just one event he took on to learn how to behave like everyone else and got taught more about himself and his own interests than he'd ever planned, a snapshot of a life he could have lived if only--) so they take him back to their house and snuggle him up in a blanket burrito on the couch, making him drink water, take an advil, a tylenol.

and as he gets back to himself and they smoke a cig, talking about life as he gets rather quiet and inward again (for he cannot share, he has nothing positive or appropriate to), they do something unexpected and yet wholly welcome, a gift to close out the night: they give him a quick, brief and fleeting shotgun kiss, hand warm on his cheek, before they send him off for a nap, telling him to stay the night so he'll be well and sober the next day to depart. free breakfast if he's still around by then, otherwise, they take no offense.

he has no way of telling them the truth of this fragile matter. he has no way of divulging his life, which would undoubtedly ruin whatever scrapbook memory he is currently creating, and certainly no way to hold onto this awfully pleasant being who he can, apparently, trust in his total ineptitude with heavy inebriance. and he can't keep seeing them again after this. and his view on how ruthless and manipulative human beings are when faced with vulnerability has been shaken to its' core, and he can't say it, and he wants to, but...

instead he asks them to stay a little while he falls asleep (just one final, little test, he muses to himself), and they oblige. he's laid on the couch, head in their lap, his (admittedly not quite so soft after all the gel has hardened) hair being carded through by soft, ever-eager, sleepy fingers. he will never get a moment like this again and he pushes himself to take it in, revel in every second that passes, commit to absolute memory (no matter what he had earlier in the day) every detail of this sightly, sweetly saint's face.

he ends up falling asleep feeling cherished. he will remember this day forever. years to come he will still have tabs on this person, and their life will still be unexpectedly, oddly lucky.

maybe one day he'll find it in him to thank them properly, face-to-face...

nshtn can i say i love you? because i love you and every time you come in my inbox i get so excited

first and foremost i don't think he even would dance at a party. he very much is the kind of guy to find a spot and linger there with a group he's only half listening to. once he meets you though his night gets much much more interesting

he's never really had chances to drink, except maybe whiskey or something expensive with Spencer during their talks about Umbrella and the future, so when you start handing him all kinds of seltzers and mixed drinks and straight shots of vodka, he is very overwhelmed

he can't show it though! so he dutifully takes most of what you hand him, a few drinks are two sweet for him, and he is very quickly wasted tbh. you're so nice though, and you drag him in the middle of everyone dancing and show him a few easy things and soon enough he's bouncing around with everyone else

every time he starts to think about what's going to happen tomorrow you're immediately there to distract him. it's almost like you can read his mind - you know just the right things to say and how to push people out of the way and he just thinks you're perfect under the flashing lights

finally when it's time to go home, he knows for a fact he can't show up at his place looking messed up as he is - what if Spencer or Birkin or some nameless Umbrella employee saw him and ratted him out? so he takes your offer to go to your house gracefully as he can this drunk

he knows now that you're a party expert, you immediately make him drink water and wash his face and take preemptive tylenol for the hangover. your fleeting kiss and warm hands on his sweaty skin are so sweet he can't bear to think about it longer than he has to. he knows he should leave before you wake up tomorrow and forget this wonderful night ever happened (he'll never forget you, not even on his deathbed)

you give him every courtesy and kindness you can offer and he decides to take just one more, one last sweet touch to take with him into the night. you smile sleepily and open your arms for him to fall into - the blanket covering his shoulders is a little too hot and you both smell like beer and liquor and sweat but your lap is so soft, it makes the ache in his back and shoulders from carrying the world lessen a bit, and your fingers in his hair send him into a beautiful and silent sleep

the next morning it physically pains him to untangle from your body on the couch. he stands and watches you for a moment, his heart clenching and pounding in his chest, until he forces himself out the door before you can feel his absence.

when he meets you again, what feels like a thousand years later, his heart pounds just the same. you recognize him, his twisted dark smirk and deep eyes, and when you smile and say his name he's suddenly twenty-something all over again and dizzy and drunk in your arms - he never wants to leave you again

[l0sercat]

So if you could may i ask deathslinger, wesker, huntress, and ghostface when they are aiming for a certain survivor(or about to slash for ghostie and grab for wesker) but the survivor dodges their attack and for their surprise they accidentally hit the S/O who unfortunately was at the wrong time and place and got hit instead plus the S/O just healed(so they just gealed only to get accidentally hit and became injured again)

I'm slowly trying to work on asks rn. My asks are always open but I'm slow and procrastinate a lot. I'm sorry for not getting to them sooner lol!

Killers reaction to hurting their S/o

Deathslinger

Ain't no damn way that little fucker made him hurt his s/o

He sees your confused and hurt face and he feels himself getting angrier

He will find the little fucker and make them pay

Then once they're taken care of he will rush to you and make sure your okay and not to mad at him lol

Huntress

She lets out a scream of anger as she sees he axe just lodged itself into your shoulder

She is rushing to your side and swooping you into her arms and taking care of the wound

She'll deal with the survivor later and make sure that they pay ten fold

Ghostface

Oh he's pissed

Seeing you hurt and running away from him

He'll immediately hunt down the survivor and nothing will stop him. He is going to beat them and stab them to a pulp

After he is done with them he will go to you. Does he like seeing you cry? Yes but he doesn't like the way it happened

He is gonna indirectly apologize and tease you for your tears, but when you back at the camp he'll hold you in his arms

Wesker

Shocked that it happened then it quickly turns to anger, he grits his teeth and shouts at the survivor

He is not having it, he knows you'll be okay so he goes to get the survivor before checking on you

The survivor is tortured and then left to die on the floor

He'll focus on the round and when you get back to the camp that's when he'll check on you and make sure there are no hard feelings

[kvoinre]

|:(

i reuploaded bc i realised the quality was ASS

[tsumtsumwesker]

Wesker Wednesday hehheheheheheeheheh

[whiskers-my-beloved]

Wesker Meeting Wesker Tsum

Continuing this from my last ask and taking inspirition from @idkvg comment.

Imagen if they teamed up, but I am not sure that would work. Wesker tsum is even more stubborn that regular Wesker. Lil bean would plan out something to steal all the food in Wesker fridge if given the chance.

[nshtn]

okay so what cocktail of viruses does wesker have by Re5?

Progenitor? Prototype? Uroboros? I have to admit I have no idea how to even Start learning about the viruses

By RE5: Oswald. E Spencer's prototype Progenitor Virus 67 Albert Wesker, canonically. Some kind of specific and tailored strain, maybe specific to the deterministic intellect genes that Albert expressed so that it would have a higher chance of acceptance, or modified for his metabolism, or maybe he has some receptor polymorphism that had to be accounted for, or something...

Its' stabilizer (or perhaps it is simply more of the virus) has to contain a rather large dose - in comparison to its' contents - of Aspirin to offset apparent blood clotting. It must be given within the hour it is needed, or Wesker will suffer progressive weakness and aggression. Overdose causes his powers to become so potent they become uncontrollable, supporting the theory that it is more of the virus. There is no tocopherol, aluminum salts, soap bark extract or neomycin, as there would be with flu vaccines, anthrax vaccines, or rabies vaccines.

The field of virology was in its' infancy when PG67 was given to him, so there isn't much change that is incredibly advanced, but Spencer was still, himself, a genius of his field.

My own thought is... his mistake is in using Progenitor and not the vastly superior T-Virus, which had been available around the time of Wesker's initial injection, but he may not have had the health or time to make it T-Virus.

It canonically lacks the stabilizing Ebola genes that Birkin used on T-Virus that made it less deadly than its' Progenitor ancestor, but there isn't much else known about it.

By the end of RE5, he also gains Uroboros. Canonically, this slowly turns him into a monster of his own making and leads to his downfall and potentially his death (though Capcom has left it open to interpretation, and there is a black mass seen moving under the water at the credits).

Uroboros' tentacles are brackish and veiny, with a very short taper and the musculature of intestines in canon. Stripping away lighting entirely, they're very dark brown with bloody streaks, but in Dead by Daylight, they're pitch black and take on a smooth look. Successful subjects have a single macronuclei located directly on the chest; unsuccessful subjects may have one or multiple dependent on their mutation pathway into a Mkono or, more uncommonly, an Aheri.

Their look is influenced by heavy leech gene expression, similar to the hiveminded leech T-Virus that had been the first official pivot from Progenitor. Their stage-stepped mutations are a result of T-Veronica and G-Virus, and their crippling weakness to fire is purely a result of G-Virus.

Uro!verse Uroboros and PG67A/W work a lot differently; if you're interested in that, please feel free to send another ask. 💚💚💚

[heisenbergs-magnetic-dick]

what I see when I’m at the dentist

[another-fanfic-haven]

i can't seem to find the post I'm thinking of but like

Wesker walking with you back into the RPD from a coffee break, snow and ice on the roads and both of you chatting, wrapped in warm coats and scarves

He notices the snow plow about to cover you head to toe in dirty, muddy snow, so he yanks you and pulls into his chest, guarding you from the flying lump of grime, hitting him in the back and basically ruining his pristine, woolen coat. He'd keep your face pressed into his chest, suffocating you with the warmth and his cologne, until he's absolutely sure there's no danger around.

aaaaanyway. The brainrot is real.

[angelcakegirl]

the women yearn for this man :3

[itsohh]

I'M NOT HERE TO BABYSIT YOU

[destinationtrekk]

wesker thigh job🤤🤤🤤

:3

18+ mdni, gn!reader with amab!reader at the end

i previously mentioned that wesker is an ass/thigh man so yep yep!!! thigh jobs are his go to when he's really tired and just wants to get off lazy or when you're reeeeally desperate and he wants to tease you more

he'll push your face into the pillows and drag your hips up so you're presented perfectly for him, and he will COAT your thighs in lube. he wants it dripping down on the sheets and making the most vulgar noises to match his groans and sighs as he slowly slides between your thighs with his head thrown back. he'll take it nice and slow, making you feel every vein on his cock as he brushes right up against your most sensitive spots. occasionally he'll give one hard thrust with a twist of his hips to really tease you, but until you're begging him or he cums he's not leaving your warm thighs

amab!reader:

if YOU are the one fucking his thighs.... oh boy...

he likes to take it laying on his back with his legs over your shoulders because his ego is fucking massive and he wants to watch you admire his body while you use it. he isn't typically one to let himself be in such a vulnerable position, but you will absolutely make him cum by continuously thrusting against the underside of his cock and balls - poor guy can only take so many gentle touches and words before he's out of his mind